


When The Reckoning Arrives

by graytheglowinggay



Series: X-Men: My Self-Indulgent Gay Nonsense [9]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anti-Mutant Sentiments (Marvel), Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Canon-Typical Violence, Closeted Bobby Drake, Cults, Feels, Gay Bashing, Gay Bobby Drake, Gen, Homophobia, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Infiltration, M/M, Mission Fic, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One-Sided Attraction, Original Character(s), POV Third Person Limited, Pre-Slash, Protectiveness, Religious Cults, Religious Fanaticism, Secret Crush, Some Humor, Title from a Mountain Goats Song, Two Shot, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23917273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graytheglowinggay/pseuds/graytheglowinggay
Summary: Jean-Paul Beaubier and Bobby Drake are sent on a mission together to infiltrate an anti-mutant cult. Jean-Paul has many things on his mind.Archive warning is for the second chapter, the first chapter is relatively chill.
Relationships: Jean Paul Beaubier & Original Male Character(s), Jean-Paul Beaubier & Bobby Drake, Jean-Paul Beaubier/Bobby Drake
Series: X-Men: My Self-Indulgent Gay Nonsense [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693336
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Jean-Paul was not a team player, despite being a major part of two different teams, the X-Men and Alpha Flight. He usually only worked together with people because he had to, not because he derived any sense of enjoyment or satisfaction from it. Even so, there were people he enjoyed working with more than others. His sister, Aurora, was easily at the top of that list, but he also found Guardian and Marrina to be almost enjoyable. His X-Men teammates got on his nerves more than his Alpha Flight ones did, but some of them were more tolerable than others. By far, the most annoying X-Man, though, was Bobby Drake. He was so carefree and laid-back, and always cracking wise at the worst possible times. And Jean-Paul had a massive crush on him. How the man who was the furthest away from being his type managed to get him so hot and bothered was a complete and utter mystery, but Jean-Paul knew that trying to deny those kinds of feelings only made them worse.

So Scott assigned them to work together. Wonderful.

Intelligence had come in regarding a small anti-mutant organization in the rural Midwest, and they were ordered to gather all the information they could without drawing attention to their presence. Jean-Paul knew why he had been chosen, but the choice of Iceman was beyond him. The man was about as sneaky and subtle as a bag of wasps.

But here they were, stuck together, squeezed next to each other in a very small booth in a rinky-dink small-town diner, talking to the contact they had found for the organization.

“So, you two boys say you’re interested in joining the Sanctifiers?” their contact said. He was a middle-aged man of average appearance, wearing a hunting jacket and a trucker hat.

“Uh, yes. That we are,” Bobby replied. They had both agreed that the would do the talking, given Jean-Paul’s foreign accent. Those who harbored anti-mutant prejudices didn’t tend to just stop at one.

“Well, you’re getting in on the ground floor here. We’re gonna try to join one of those big, national organizations, like the Mauraders or the Purifiers,” he said.

“Those crews are great and all, but if we wanted to join the Mauraders or the Purifiers, we’d just join those. What sets you all apart?”

“We aren’t just looking to heal the world of mutants, but of all slights against nature. I said we want to join a bigger crew, but so many of them are beholden to PC culture. They can’t truly fix the world.”

“And what other slights against nature are you fighting against?” Bobby asked.

“Well, for starters, there’s any number of things that this country has accepted that it shouldn’t have. I’ve got my theories about that. But the biggest one is those damn homosexuals.”

Jean-Paul had been somewhat expecting a response of that nature, but it still hit him right in the chest. He clenched his fist under the table and tried his best to maintain a neutral expression.

“I see your friend agrees with me.”

He did not do a good job, but at least the contact had assumed agreement.

“Yeah,” Bobby said. “He hates those homosexuals.”

“Speaking of your friend, why hasn’t he said anything?” the contact asked. “Seems like you’ve been doing all the talking for the two of you.”

“A mutant damaged his voice,” Bobby said. “One of the ones with fire powers. Hardly makes more than a whisper. Prefers to stay silent.”

Jean-Paul was impressed with Bobby’s ability to make up such an elaborate lie on the fly. Perhaps sending him on this mission made some sense after all.

“Damn mutants,” the contact replied. “Well, you’re a hell of a friend for being his voice.”

“Thanks,” Bobby said. “About the homosexuals thing. Do continue.”

“Yeah, of course. Now, we usually think about ‘mutant’ only referring to folks who have powers, but mutant just means a different kind of human. I’m no scientist, but my boss is, and he believes that homosexuals are another type of mutant, and they’re just as dangerous as the ones who can fly or have claws in their hands. Because you see, they can get into places that other mutants can’t, since they look normal, and can’t be sensed with anti-mutant technology. They’re the eyes and ears of the mutant world, trust me. Most folks don’t see that. They’re either too occupied with the more flashy mutants or have been brainwashed by the homosexual social elite to accept that kind of behavior. You two can get more information once you’ve been inducted into the more exclusive circles.”

“Of course,” Bobby looked down at his watch. “Well, that’s all the time we’ve got for now, but thank you very much for meeting us. Do you have a business card or something that we can contact you through?”

“I don’t have one, but the Sanctifiers do,” He handed Bobby a grey business card. “You’ll have to answer some questions to prove that you’ve got real connections. If they ask, say you talked to Lot.” He stood up from the table and extended a hand for Bobby to shake.

Bobby took the business card and shook Lot’s hand. “I will.”

“Damn, your hand’s cold,” Lot said when the handshake ended.

“Circulation problems,” Bobby said. “Sometimes I have to wear gloves in the summer.”

“Well, good luck to you and your friend. I hope to see you again.”

* * *

Once Lot was gone and they had left the restaurant, Jean-Paul punched a lamp-post so hard he left a fist-sized dent in it.

“Woah, Jean-Paul, easy, easy!” Bobby said.

“Why did Summers send me on this? To cooperate with a homophobe?” He felt his fingertips start to glow. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide them.

“We didn’t know that the Sanctifiers were homophobic! We had next to no intel on them, remember?” Bobby replied.

“You just talked to him! Made conversation like it was nothing! Sat by and let him spout those toxic ideas!” Jean-Paul exclaimed.

“It was for the mission! If we weren’t trying to infiltrate them, I wouldn’t have let that kind of thing slide!”

“Fuck the mission!” Jean-Paul leaped into the air and flew off. 

He didn’t care about ruining his clothes, didn’t care about being spotted, just needed to get away from all of it, including Bobby. He flew up, up up, past the clouds to where the air got thin and every breath took more effort than it was worth. He lingered up there until his vision started to fade and let himself drop. He could never truly hurt himself this way— neither he nor his sister could fall without their instincts stopping it— but it was enough to toy with it. Enough to distract him from every frantic thought racing through his head, every bit of shame he thought he had rid himself of ages ago. He took control of his descent and flew to a nearly dry riverbed. He sat at the edge of the water and watched the small volume trickle along. There was frost at the shoreline, unseasonable for that time of year.

Wait. Unseasonable frost… Jean-Paul turned to his right and saw Bobby forming snowballs and tossing them into the river.

“How did you find me?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Went to the nearest natural formation that’d stand out from the air,” Bobby replied matter-of-factly.

“But, my speed.”

“You were mostly traveling up. We’re only about a half-mile out of town. Not that hard to travel on ice,” Bobby said.

Jean-Paul opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t find a solid argument. He sighed. “I didn’t want you to follow me.”

“Figured as much. But I can’t exactly leave you to fend for yourself. You wouldn’t know which side of the road to drive on,” Bobby cracked a smile.

“We drive on the right in Canada too, you know,” Jean-Paul replied.

“Go figure,” Bobby formed a cloud of snow in his hand and let the flakes drift slowly to the ground. “Talk to me, Jean-Paul. We can’t keep the mission going if you have outbursts like this. What’s wrong?”

“You know damn well what’s wrong.”

“I know that what Lot said about being gay upset you. Hell, it upset me. But I can’t have you getting upset like that when we’re infiltrating the Sanctifiers. I need to know that you’ll have my back, and you won’t fly off the handle when things get rough,” Bobby replied.

“You don’t get it. You  _ can’t _ get it,” Jean-Paul said. “I have worked so hard to get where I am, be the man I am today. Hearing things like that, listening to what Lot said— I felt like a confused little boy again. I do not care for that feeling.”

“I get it, Jean-Paul,” Bobby said. He looked away. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Those moments, those simple tender moments, were the ones that confused Jean-Paul the most. Because he could swear that there was something between them at that moment, something more than camaraderie. He wanted to kiss him, he wanted to hold him, they could make love right in that riverbed and Jean-Paul wouldn’t mind getting his clothes dirty. But it was nothing. It was probably nothing.

“Thank you, Bobby,” Jean-Paul said. “We should probably try to call that number on the business card.”

“Yeah,” Bobby replied.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is why this work has an archive warning. Though there isn't any blood, there is a lot of punching, and feeling good about punching. Read at your own discretion.

It took them another two weeks to get invited to the Sanctifiers’ headquarters, which turned out to be located in an old church basement. Surely they could have found a less cliched place to set up residence. Bobby had gotten a call from an unlisted number saying that they had secured the necessary materials for an induction ceremony and that it would be held that night. During it, Jean-Paul and Bobby would be made full members of the Sanctifiers. Even though it was just for a mission, and they would try to find some way out of completing the ceremony, the idea of becoming a part of a homophobic anti-mutant cult made Jean-Paul’s blood run cold.

“What’s your grand plan of escape, otter-pop?” Jean-Paul asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Bobby replied.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes. “Knock. And remember, they think I cannot speak.”

Bobby nodded and knocked on the door. The door opened just a crack, bound by a locking chain. “Who are you?”

“We are the initiates, sons of Lot,” Bobby replied.

“And what has brought you here today?”

“To partake in the brotherhood of true man.”

“You may enter,” The door was closed, there was a sound of the chain being unhooked, and the door opened fully. A man in a long robe with a deep hood stood in front of them, holding a bundle of clothes. “Don these robes and proceed down the stairs. The ceremony is almost at hand.” He handed the bundle to Bobby, who handed one robe to Jean-Paul. 

It was a very simple garment, made of a rather scratchy brown fabric with three hook-and-eye closures at the front. Jean-Paul put it on and lifted the hood over his head. Bobby did the same.

“May your sword burn with the cleansing fire,” the robed doorman said.

“And may its holy light shine upon your path,” Bobby replied.

The three of them bowed to each other, and Bobby and Jean-Paul walked through the empty hallways of the church to the staircase to the basement.

“Did these guys just choose every cult cliche in the book?” Bobby asked in the pidgin of Latin American Spanish and Quebecois French that they had created for discreet communication. Due to their common linguistic ancestry, it was an easier combination than one might think, but it was still rather simple.

“Perhaps,” Jean-Paul replied. “I once thought such things were cool.”

“Oh?” Bobby asked. “Did the great Northstar have a horror phase?”

“I was a teenager once,” Jean-Paul said.

They turned a final corner and arrived at the staircase.

“From this point on, no talking. Just listen,” Jean-Paul said.

Bobby nodded and mimed zipping his lips shut. Jean-Paul opened the door to the staircase, and the two of them descended.

Jean-Paul didn’t know what he was expecting when he entered the Sanctifiers’ headquarters, but certain elements of decor didn’t surprise him. Pseudo-Christian imagery? Check. Enough candles to make a middle-aged mother blush? Check. Dozens of men in long brown robes? Check. Two teenage boys tied back-to-back to a St. Andrew’s Cross? Not check. Not ok.

Bobby must have thought the same thing because when Jean-Paul turned to look at him, the other man’s eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape.

“I apologize for the delay, initiates,” A robed man (who must have been Lot, by the sound of his voice) said. “We needed time to source a suitable sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” Bobby asked, his voice nearly cracking on the second syllable.

“Yes, a sacrifice. You see, every full member of the Sanctifiers must be sealed into the brotherhood through the shedding of impure blood. However, not just any abomination will do. The nature of the abomination must fit the nature of the initiate. For you, two men already bound by the ties of brothers-in-arms, we must sacrifice two men with an unholy bond,” Lot explained. He gestured to the teenagers bound to the St. Andrew’s Cross. “These two were already on our mutant registry, but when we tracked them down we found that they were not only mutants but sodomites,” He chuckled. “They both put up considerable resistance, but we managed to subdue them. These two will atone with their blood, and their sacrifice will sanctify you. Both of you.”

Jean-Paul had to fight back every urge to kill every Sanctifier in the room. He couldn’t believe his eyes. How had no one known what these men were doing? If he asked, Lot would probably say that they wouldn’t be missed, and Jean-Paul worried that he was right. Two gay mutants, perhaps without homes or families. Who would care if they were gone?

He cared. Northstar cared. And he wasn’t about to let them suffer for the sake of intel.

But before he could throw off his robe and dash into battle, there was a hand on his shoulder. It was cold, freezing cold, and gripped hard. He turned to face Bobby and their eyes met.  _ Not yet _ , they said.  _ We’ll make them pay soon enough. _

A bell was rung, and all the Sanctifiers turned to face the cross. Bobby let go of Jean-Paul’s shoulder. Three men stood by the cross; two on either side, one in front. The one in front cleared his throat and spoke.

“Sanctifiers,” he said. “Today we are gathered for that most important, most holy of our rituals. It serves a two-fold purpose: to bring new brothers into our fold and to purge this world of another abomination. Our initiates were strangers to this town, but not to each other. They are brothers-in-arms and have fought against the evils of this world side-by-side for many years. They have made each other stronger than they are apart, and so they will make us stronger too. Initiates, step forward.”

Jean-Paul and Bobby stepped forward so they stood below the speaker.

“You have names, but from this day forth they are no more. You—” he gestured to Bobby— “are David. And you—” he gestured to Jean-Paul— “are Jonathan. As they were bonded, so are you. Now rise, my brothers, and claim your sacrifice.”

Bobby and Jean-Paul walked to either side of the St. Andrew’s Cross. The blood ran hot in Jean-Paul’s veins. He wanted more than anything to stop waiting and start doing. But he trusted Bobby to give the signal to attack, and so he held himself back.

The Sanctifier that stood beside Jean-Paul unsheathed a sword from its scabbard and presented it to him.

“And now David and Jonathan shall spill the blood of the abominable and take their places among the brotherhood of the Sanctifiers!”

Through the roar of the crowd, Jean-Paul heard one word.

_ Ahorita _ .

Jean-Paul dropped the sword and threw off his robe. He dashed up into the air and lunged at the nearest Sanctifier. The sound of cheekbone crunching beneath his fist was like the first note of a glorious symphony. He sped around the room, sometimes running, sometimes flying, kicking, punching, grappling, slamming. He couldn’t be stopped. He wouldn’t be stopped. He grabbed one man by the head and rammed him against a wall. He took another and dislocated both his shoulders. He dropped on top of another. 

He saved Lot for last. He didn’t want to take him by surprise. He wanted to see the fear in that mutant-hating homophobe’s eyes. Jean-Paul grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. His fingers tightened around his windpipe as Lot scrambled to break his grip. Jean-Paul could see him begin to lose consciousness. He wanted him to lose more than that.

“Northstar,” he heard distantly. “Jean-Paul!”

He turned to see Bobby holding the two boys to his chest, making sure they couldn’t see the violence that had unfolded. “Enough!”

Jean-Paul looked back to Lot. His eyes had rolled back and his face was turning purple. Jean-Paul dropped him. He lowered himself to the ground and walked over to Bobby.

“Any more of them?” Jean-Paul asked.

“No,” Bobby replied. “You took care of them. All of them.”

“Are the boys ok?”

“Still in shock, I think. We should make sure they don’t get separated once we take them back to the school,” Bobby said.

“Back to the school?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Well, they certainly can’t stay here. They should at least stay there until they’ve recovered. Whether or not they want to attend is up to them,” Bobby said.

“You’re right,” Jean-Paul replied. “Have they said anything?”

“Not to me,” Bobby replied. “You can try, though.”

Jean-Paul put his hands on the boys’ shoulders. He could feel their quick, shallow breathing.

“You may not know me,” Jean-Paul said. “I am Jean-Paul Beaubier. I am a mutant and an X-Man. I am also gay.”

The two boys turned to face Jean-Paul, and they looked even younger than they had appeared from afar; no older than 16. Jean-Paul remembered when he was 16 when he had justified the continued hiding of his gay identity so he could ski for Canada in the Olympics. It was hell. He couldn’t imagine going through what these boys had.

“You have gone through more than you should have at your age. Sadly, that is true for most gay people and most mutants. But you do not have to suffer. I cannot tell you that being gay and a mutant is easy, but it is possible. There are places where you can be safe, like Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, where I teach, along with Bobby Drake. There, you can learn to use your mutant abilities, and it is also a safe haven for mutants. We have all been prosecuted for who we are, and even more so if we are mutants and another minority. I cannot promise you much, but I will say this: as long as I am here, as long as I still breathe, you will be under my protection. This I swear.”

One boy, then the other, embraced him. Jean-Paul was taken aback, but he put his arms around them, loosely at first, and then tighter. He would be for these boys what he did not have. It was why he had become a teacher in the first place. Because through all the arrogance and posturing and French cursing, Jean-Paul Beaubier was selfless, and to be a teacher was to be selfless.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a lot darker than my usual fare. I was initially going to write something a lot lighter with this idea, but the words just started coming and they didn't stop coming, and before I knew it, I wrote my first work that actually needed an archive warning! I'm pretty proud of it, especially the way that Jean-Paul "cracks", so to speak.
> 
> I might write more content with the original mutant characters in this fic, we'll just have to see.


End file.
